


Power

by L122ytorch



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: BDSM, F/M, First Kiss, First Time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 17:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L122ytorch/pseuds/L122ytorch





	Power

Red kept his distance, that was typical. Sure, he would offer the consoling hug, or a guiding hand on her elbow, but whenever their conversations turned too heavy, he would recoil. It drove Liz nuts. She wanted to rip off his armor, she wanted to claw the truth out of him. There was so much she didn't know...about her own past, about Red's past, about his connection to her, but it was none of those things that truly piqued her interest. More than anything she wanted glimpses into his head, into his feelings. 

Just when she felt successful in tearing down one wall, she could sense another one rising to take it's place. The immaculate three-piece suits he wore were the perfect metaphor for the way he approached others. He was guarded in layers, and lately, Liz desperately wanted to begin peeling them off, along with that fucking suit.

"Keen, you with us?" Ressler's voice pulled her back to reality. 

"Of course," she lied. 

The fact that thoughts of Red were distracting her from her work just added fuel to the fire. She was angry...frustrated...he was always at arm's length, but never within grasp. He was powerful and experienced, but that doesn't mean he's impenetrable...he's only human.

She forced herself to focus on Aram's computer as he explained how their latest blacklister hacked into a government site to steal sensitive information. This guy was so skilled that he was giving Ararm a run for his money. She and Ressler were gathering information on him all week and the team was nearly ready to move in on him. "The Taskmaster," is what Red called him. 

And as intriguing as treason and hacking was, it wasn't enough to hold her attention. She needed to fix herself before distraction began to show itself in her work. She needed to talk to Red. But what would she say? 

Regardless of having no game plan, she found her fingers dialing "Nick's Pizza," as she walked to her car in the parking garage. Her navy blue heels clacked against the cement, keeping pace with her rising heartbeat as one ring followed another.

"Lizzie," she heard the familiar voice answer. 

"Hey Red, I was wondering if I could come over?"

"Of course Lizzie, you are always welcome. What time should I expect you?"

"Eight."

"See you then," he hung up.

She clicked her car open, grateful that Red didn't ask what this visit would be regarding. Discussing their "relationship" had to be one of Red's least favorite topics. 

The ride home from work seemed to take forever. Traffic choked streets and congested highways made the commute unbearably long. And the longer she sat in the car, the more her mind wandered to Red, eliciting anticipation and arousal from her body. She wanted to push those things down, she wanted to be better, stronger than her base needs. But the gravel in his voice was unnervingly sexy. Their power play was intoxicating. Fuck, even the way he wrapped his lips around a cigar was so sensual. 

Finally, her house came into view. She was an hour later getting home than she wanted to be. It would only give her enough time to scarf down some gross microwave dinner and fix her hair and makeup before leaving again. Liz felt a sense of urgency in getting to Red, although she had no idea what her game plan was. What could she possibly say to him? That she lays awake at night fantasizing about him? That every time he talks to her she prays it's not about work, and when it inevitably is, she feels such a deep well of hollow disappointment. That she would do anything for him? 

In her mind she thought she sounded weak...needy...and that's not at all the impression she wanted to give off to Red. He had seen her at her lowest points, he knew many sides of her, but not all of them. 

Eight o'clock approached much more quickly than Liz anticipated. She flew through her house, closed and locked the door behind her, and set off into the night to have some unknown conversation with the man that haunted her every waking thought. 

By now the traffic had dissipated and the stillness of night fell over the city. In the distance, Liz could hear the faint rumble of an approaching thunderstorm. The air buzzed with electricity and little droplets of rain had begun to assault her windshield. By the time she pulled in the lengthy driveway of Red's latest dwelling, the rain was coming down in sheets. She twisted her torso and tore through her car looking for an umbrella but found none. With a sigh she opened the car door anyway and stepped out. 

Despite it being just a short jog to the mahogany double doors, Liz was soaked. She rang the bell and Dembe answered. He apologized profusely for her current soaked state and once inside, he disappeared to get her a towel. 

"Where's Red?" she asked, pulling her hair to one side and attempting to wring it out with the towel. 

"He just finished dinner. He is in the study enjoying a cigar. Would you like for me to see if I can gather some dry clothes for you?" 

"No, don't worry about it, thanks Dembe," she smiled at her friend and followed him to the study.

Red sat in a plush, cream colored chair next to a roaring marble fireplace. As always, he was perfectly dressed in a black three piece suit, his signature fedora resting on a side table nearby. 

"Lizzie," he smiled before taking a final deep drag of the cigar between his fingers. As she walked closer to him he realized she was soaked and stood up. "You're drenched!" he exclaimed. 

"It's fine, I have a towel."

"It's fall Lizzie, you'll catch your death."

She laughed at his concern and then said to him pointedly, "sit down Red."

He arched in eyebrow in surprise and reprised his seat. His eyes felt like a lead weight on her body, roaming up and down as if she were a fine work of art. It made her cheeks flush a deep rose. Part of her hated the power he had over her...over her body...she wanted some of that power back. 

She sat on the sofa that faced his chair and admired the way the orange glow of the fire added an extra spark to his already enthralling emerald eyes. 

"What did you want to see me about?" he smiled like a Cheshire cat eyeing a bowl of fresh milk. 

She licked her lips and they parted but all that came out was a sigh. 

"I wanted to talk about us," she said finally. 

Clouds seemed to gather in Red's sunny disposition. 

"What about us?"

She shook her head slightly and looked back at the fire for a moment trying to string together some sentence that might make sense. 

"I want to know what we are Red," is what she settled on.

He tilted his head and gave her a quizzical look. "You know what we are."

"No Red, I don't," she now worried her bottom lip between her sharp teeth, using the pain as a distraction. The storm raged on outside the study's large six-paned windows and deep rolls of thunder seemed to reverberate through the dark room.

"What don't you know?" he asked.

She swallowed her fear and continued. "I know that you're an informant for us. But I also know that you know everything about me and worry over me constantly," his expression was again shifting, ever so subtly. She wanted to turn every light switch on and study him beneath a bright flood of inescapable reality. "I know that we have conversations that border on...erotic," the final word tasted like wine and dark chocolate on her tongue and sent a whole host of x-rated daydream images flitting through her head. 

He didn't seem ruffled in the least. "If you would like for me to tone down these conversations that border on erotic..." "That's the problem," she interjected, "it's the opposite."

His eyes were wide with shock. She stood and walked towards the chair in which he sat. On her approach she could almost hear the chains of the metaphorical drawbridge pulling his facade closed. He crossed his legs in an attempt to hide an erection that began the moment he saw her dripping wet, her white blouse nearly see-through. With a gulp he looked up at her. 

"I want you Red. I want to change our relationship."

He shook his head 'no.' 

"Elizabeth, I'm flattered, I truly am," his mind fought for ways to get out of this without hurting her, despite the fact that it was immensely hurting himself. "But I'm afraid that we can never be intimate. It just wouldn't be appropriate."

She scoffed at his words, feeling a wash of rejection that stung worse than any bullet could. She still hovered over him, standing with a look of disbelief on her face. "You're telling me that you don't want me?" 

Again he shook his head 'no.' He wanted to stand, but she was so close that it offered him no room to do so. "Elizabeth, you are perhaps the most gorgeous and intelligent woman I have ever met, but I cannot...we cannot..."

"Why?" the question was so innocent it made his heart ache. 

"We just can't," he whispered, his jaw shifting up and down without further words to accompany it's movement. It sounded like such a weak answer...because it was. It was flimsy. He wanted her, more than anything, but he couldn't let her know that. He could never jeopardize what they have. He was already too involved with her, so much closer than he ever should've gotten. Even Kaplan had chastised him for planting himself in her life just because he was so desperate to know her. 

She put a cold hand on the side of his warm face and looked down into his eyes, but he had an expert understanding of his physicality and maintained the same closed off expression that made her want to scream. 

In a moment of insanity, she brushed her thumb over his lips and he cracked...sliding his eyelids shut to absorb the sensation. 

"It's so obvious that you want this too. Why deny the undeniable Raymond?"

His full name sounded so delicious on her red-glossed lips. 

"What do you want...sex?" the question surprised her.

"I want to own you." She answered with her heart, leaving her brain far behind in the dust...the words slipped out and she couldn't pull them back in. God, his pupils were impossibly black, leaving just a sliver of green to encircle them. "I want to cuff you, to put you back in your little glass box and make you feel as helpless as you make me feel."

His mouth was agape and she could see his carotid visibly pulsing in his up-stretched neck. 

"We can't Lizzie," he sounded pained. 

"That's not what your cock is saying."

Again he shut his eyes and gulped, but there was no saliva left in his mouth, no blood left in his brain. She was breathing quickly as well, chest rising and falling, pressing her hard nipples against the cold soaked white blouse. 

"I want you to submit to me Raymond. I want to dominate you." A full fledged moan slid past Red's lips. He was always in charge, the master of his domain, but for her...for her he'd be anything she wanted. He'd crawl inside that glass box and do whatever the fuck she wanted."

"I don't deserve you Lizzie...I'm twice your age...I'm a criminal...we work together" he was throwing out excuses but they felt so shaky beneath her bright blue gaze. She ran her nails through his short hair and he twisted his head so that they dug in deeper. 

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

"Don't be," she backed away. "You'll change your mind."

With that, she headed for the door.


End file.
